


Dumpster Diving

by envyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Good Omens References, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envyfangirl/pseuds/envyfangirl
Summary: After Castiel gets thrown in a dumpster, he breaks his leg. Low on morale, he finds himself crushing on the handsome boy who pulled him out. It's decidedly not good, since Dean probably doesn't even like boys. Or Castiel.--When Dean is dumpster diving he gets the shock of his life when he finds Castiel, mercifully not dead. He keeps a discreet eye on Castiel, then a not so discreet eye.--Sam in the meantime is cheering Castiel on to actually ask Dean out on a date. Because waiting for Dean to make a move could take a lifetime.





	1. Bad Grades and Spare Parts

Cas walked out of the building, his bag hanging on one shoulder. He still felt some lingering guilt about having the only passing grade of the entire class, but he tried to push it down. It wasn’t HIS fault.

EVERYONE said they wouldn’t study for the test. EVERYONE said they wouldn’t make the test. EVERYONE said the test didn’t count. Just words, right? And besides, Castiel didn’t even study that hard. He paid attention during class. He understood the material. It wasn’t HIS fault everyone else failed.

He was just crossing the schoolyard, when several pairs of hands grabbed him. There were hands everywhere; his arms, his neck, his mouth, a fist in his stomach.

Any noise he made was muffled behind a hand.

“Stupid little know-it-all.” Another blow. Castiel couldn’t double over — the hold on him was too strong. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

Castiel tried to shout. To no avail.

“Take him to the dumpsters.”

He struggled. He did. But he never stood a chance. The four of them easily forced him along. He tried to dig his heels in the ground. He tried to break free. He tried to bite the hand that held him. Nothing worked.

The dumpster loomed in front of him. Castiel doubled his struggles. He was lifted off the ground.

“No! Let go!”

They tossed him in. Castiel’s heart seemed to skip a beat. When he landed, the first thing that hit him was a loud snap. The very close second was the pain, hot white pain. It flashed before his eyes. He heard laughter from outside. The lid slammed shut, encasing him in darkness.

“Have fun in there, nerd.”

Castiel scrambled to get up, but the pain was too much. He banged against the metal wall. “Help! Please! Anyone! Please help!” He could feel bruises form on his hands. He kept pounding, tears streamed down his cheeks. “P-please.”

He leaned his forehead against the side of the container, sobs wracking his throat.

He was never getting out of there.

* * *

Dean knew Sam hated it. Hated how his brother and father went dumpster diving. Hated how people viewed them. He had more fights with their dad over this than anything else.

“Dad, you’re stealing,” he said. “and what you’re stealing is garbage.”

“It’s not stealing if nobody wants it.”

“If nobody wants it, why are you stealing it?”

Dean always stayed out of those arguments, because there was no right side to pick. He got both of them. Sam was right. Having your family rooting through garbage looking for the good stuff wasn’t really what you bragged about in school.

But people threw away a lot of stuff that were still pretty awesome. Whether it was worth the smell and reputation was doubtful, but for their dad this was where he fell to. After his discharge he just couldn’t handle being around people. His temper had become a short fuse. Anything could set him off. Meaning his dad couldn’t handle a normal job, no matter how much Sam wanted him to.

Though, to be fair, probably Sammy’s biggest problem was that Dean did it as well.

“Just because he wants to root through other people’s garbage doesn’t mean you have to,” Sam said. “Dean, you can do so much more.”

That was where they differed. _Sam_ was the one destined for greatness. Dean was— he was mediocre at best. Though he was a master at finding quality stuff in garbage.

Nonetheless, Dean tried to respect his little brother’s sensitivities. He tried. That counted for something, right?

So Dean waited half an hour after the last bell to visit the dumpsters. Sam told them they’d gotten new computers. He was hoping for some old computer parts. Those were usually worth a pretty penny. Or at least something useful. He opened the first dumpster and let the smell hit him. His eyes darted at the stuff, and saw mostly rotten fruit and compost. His nose wrinkled at the stench, before he closed it again. He wasn’t even going in there.

He opened the next dumpster— and dropped the lid with a startled shriek. The earsplitting thunk wasn’t as loud as the blood roaring between his ears. That was NOT a body in the dumpster. That was NOT an actual DEAD human being. He took a deep breath and opened the dumpster again, his fingers trembling just a bit. His eyes found the shape again — yep, still human.

“Holy crap.”

The body let out a groan, the head shifting a teensy bit. Movement. It wasn’t a dead body.

“Crap.”

Dean threw the lid open and hoisted himself in, careful not to land on the other guy.

“Hey. Come on, buddy.” Dean lightly slapped the other’s cheek. The eyes twitched and he moved his head again. “Come on, wake up.” More fluttering eyelids, but this time they seemed to open.

Another groan — smaller this time, and more pained — emitted from the guy’s lips.

“Ow.”

Dean knew it wasn’t funny. The guy was lying in a dumpster, had been asleep — or unconscious — just a moment ago, but that right there. That single ‘ow’ sounded _sooo_ understated. He snorted. Dean quickly covered his mouth to hold back his laughter.

“You okay, buddy?” he asked when he’d forced all his chuckles down, though he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. “What’s your name? What’s the date?”

“…Castiel.” His voice was rough. “Million of years after Earth’s creation.”

Dean frowned. How long had he been unconscious? It couldn’t have been that long, he was right on top of everything.

Castiel pushed himself up on his elbows. Dean helped him, a supporting hand on the small of his back. When Castiel moved his leg, he let out a cry of pain. One hand shot out, gripping his right leg.

“Ow.” This ‘ow’ was almost filled with tears, and a whole lotta pain.

“Hey, hey, shhh. It’s okay. It’s alright.” Dean rubbed his hand against Castiel’s back, while his other hand was on Castiel’s leg. He lightly skimmed the limb, assessing the damage. His hand moved along Castiel’s leg, when he felt a swollen part. The cry of pain Castiel let out, along with the few tears that ran down his cheek, told Dean enough.

“Damn.” Dean knelt on one knee. He bit his lip. “I think we have a problem.”

Castiel sighed, near tears again. “Great.” He rubbed at his eyes. “What?”

“I think your leg is broken.”

This time he didn’t hold back a sob, his head bowed on his chest.

“Hey, come on. Don’t cry, come on.” CRAP. He wasn’t cut out for this. What the hell was he supposed to do? He pulled Castiel into an awkward half-hug. He whispered soothing noises into his hair. He waited until Castiel took some deep breaths to calm down. “Come on, let’s get you outta here and to a hospital.”

Dean helped him to an upright position. He manoeuvred himself underneath Castiel’s arm, trying to keep weight off of his broken leg.

“My bag.”

Dean looked around the dumpster and spotted the thing easily enough.

“Let’s get you outta here first,” he said. Castiel tried to manoeuvre him back toward the bag. “Hey, easy, okay? I’ll get it. Just you first. Okay?”

They began a balancing act toward the edge of the bin on the uneven and shifting floor of garbage.

“This is gonna hurt like a bitch. For what it’s worth, sorry.” With those words Dean hoisted Castiel up and lifted him over and onto the edge.

The pain was so sharp and intense Castiel couldn’t even find it in him to scream.

“Sit there for a moment, can you do that?”

Castiel nodded, a few tears slipping down his face. His knuckles were white from the tight grip he had on the dumpster. His broken leg kept sending flares of pain through his body, but he was too scared to move. If he did, he was sure he would fall, either face forward onto the ground or backward into the dumpster.

He heard bags of trash moving behind him, before there was a distinct sound and movement of Dean jumping out of the dumpster. The dumpster shook a little, Castiel’s grip tightened to painful. He couldn’t be bothered to open his eyes to check where his saviour had gone. Only when a hand rested on the knee of his good leg, did he open them. He found a pair of worried green eyes staring up at him.

“Now let’s get you down from there. Can you put your hands on my shoulders?”

In response he placed his palms on Dean’s shoulders. Dean’s own hands found Castiel’s waist. It was strangely intimate. Like a prince lifting his princess down from his horse. Dean lifted Castiel down from the edge and on level ground with Dean. They were standing so close right now. Chest to chest, nose to nose. Castiel’s breath and his saviour’s mingled together between them.

Castiel caught Dean’s eyes and quickly glanced away, his cheeks stained pink.

Dean didn't comment on it, much to Castiel’s relief. The last thing he needed was another trip in the dumpster.

“Okay, now try to stand on just your good leg, okay?”

“Okay,” Castiel squeaked.

“I think we should go to the hospital, to have your leg checked out.”

Castiel whined and shook his head.

“Walking on a broken leg ain’t a joyride, sweetheart.”

Castiel took a breath before he nodded. “Okay,” whispered. He hop-skipped forward a step, wincing at the pain. This was going to be a _very_ slow trip.

“You want me to carry you?”

Castiel sputtered. “You couldn’t possibly carry me all the way to the hospital.”

A half-grin slowly appeared on Dean’s face.

“Yeah, no, let’s take my car instead.”

Castiel’s cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, you may carry me.”

Dean chuckled even as he lifted Castiel up gently. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, hiding his burning face in them. It felt soo nice. Being carried. With exception of his broken leg. And the fact that Dean probably didn’t even like boys. Or Castiel. He needed to come to terms with that fact, and he had to do it fast.

Somehow Dean managed to open the passenger door while still holding on to Castiel. He placed him down gently, and Castiel only slightly winced at his broken leg when he manoeuvred it into a better position.

Castiel rubbed at his eyes, trying not to feel too sorry for himself. But it was hard. His clothing was dirty and torn. His leg most likely broken. His bag was covered in something he didn’t want to dwell too long on.

Dean got into the driver’s seat just moments later. Castiel kept his eyes on the dash, but could see him glance his way from the corner of his eyes. Dean started the car and they drove off.

“So what happened?” How’d you end up in there?”

“My classmates, they… they threw me in there because my grade was better than theirs.”

“Those bastards,” Dean cursed. “Those damn—” Dean didn’t even know how he wanted to finish that, or what he wanted to do.

* * *

Castiel had tear tracks down his face. Occasionally one would fall from his eyes, but it did so in silence. Dean glanced over at him from time to time, yet he could not think of what to say. He would open his mouth and close it again, before turning back to the road.

When they finally parked at the ER, Dean killed the engine. He turned to Castiel.

“Do you want me to grab a wheelchair or are we gonna hop you in there?”

Despite Castiel being in pain, he still managed to glare very impressively.

“I don’t need any help. I can walk myself.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Castiel got as far as opening the door and clambering out, clinging to the roof of the Impala the whole time, before he stopped. He twisted his head toward the entrance of the ER, about a 100 feet away. He groaned, letting his forehead fall on the roof of the car. Dean heard a moan that he was pretty sure meant, “Help me.”

With a chuckle Dean got out, too, and went to help Castiel. He was still pressed against the car when Dean reached him.

“Come on, buddy,” Dean said, once again wrapping Castiel’s arm around his shoulder. He could carry him again, but he figured Castiel wanted to keep at least some of his dignity.

Together they made their slow trek toward the ER. Once inside, a nurse immediately came rushing. She made a wincing Castiel take a seat and called a doctor for him. Through it all, Dean was by his side, holding his hand, rubbing his thumb against his skin.

The doctor came quickly for them and confirmed what Dean already knew. Castiel’s leg was broken. Castiel looked more resigned than anything. Castiel got a cast around his leg, and orders not to move around too much. There was a prescription of painkillers and a pair of crutches for him to collect.

“You got someone to pick you up?” Dean asked as he leaned against the doorpost as the nurse put everything away. “Sorry, should’ve asked that before.”

Castiel glanced at him. The way he stood there, worried eyes and crossed arms was the perfect contradiction. Aloof and yet still caring.

“I can call my mom. But she’s probably too busy.”

“Too busy to pick you up from the hospital?” Dean’s raised eyebrows made it clear he was unimpressed with his mother. “You’re kidding, right? It’s eight at night.”

“She is very busy.”

Dean stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to keep in the words that wanted to escape.

“You can go if you want,” Castiel said. “I can call a cab.”

Dean started so bad he actually fell away from the wall. “What? No, I’m not leaving you like this.”

“It’s alright. I’ll figure something out. Just go.”

“You— you want me to go?”

He almost sounded hurt. That couldn’t be, right? There was no way he actually wanted to stay.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than wait around here for me.”

Dean frowned. His arms were once again crossed over his chest.

“Okay, that’s all done,” the doctor said to Castiel. “Before you leave we’ll teach you how to use your crutches, and then you’re free to go.”

Castiel glanced over at Dean, and his heart broke. He left. Castiel stared at the ground. He only half-heartedly listened to the doctor and the nurse as they explained how to walk with his new crutches.

* * *

After everything he thanked both the nurse and doctor and made his shaky way toward the exit. His stomach was in knots. Perhaps he could call a cab. It would be quicker than the alternative.

“Hey.”

Castiel started at the voice behind him. He turned and caught Dean just getting up from his seat. Castiel’s eyes were wide as he stared at Dean approach.

“Ready to go?”

“Uhh… I… I thought you were gone already.”

“What? No. I’m not— I’m not just gonna bail on you, Cas.”

Castiel felt tears sting at his eyes again.

“So. Where to?”

“I— You’ve done so much already. I couldn’t—”

“Cas, come on. I already called my folks, told ‘em I’d be home later. They won’t mind.”

Castiel throat constricted. 

“So,” he asked again. He had his hands in his coat pockets. “Where to?”

Castiel’s lips curved into a smile. He averted his eyes. “Uhm, I live just near the outskirts of town. It’s about thirty minutes from my school.”

“Okay. Let’s do this then.”

Castiel walked alongside Dean to the exit, their process slowed immensely by Castiel’s crutches. Dean for his credit didn’t comment about it at all. Instead he kept up a steady chatter about whatever. Cars — which Castiel knew nothing about, music — which Dean claimed he was an expert in “no matter what Sammy said,” movies, food, whatever really crossed his mind.

The drive was uneventful. Dean filled the space with his voice. Castiel answered his questions when he asked something, but he was more content to listen. He could fall asleep like this and not have bad dreams.

Dean tapped his arm, startling Castiel from his daze. “Hey buddy, stay awake. You are my map. You need to lead on, my map.”

“Oh, take a left here.”

Dean did as he said. With a few more directions they arrived at Castiel’s house. Both Dean and Castiel stared up at the building. Castiel found that he didn’t want to go in. But he had to. Dean had done enough for him already. He couldn’t ask him to wait until Castiel actually WANTED to go inside.

With a sigh, he steeled himself.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, “for everything.”

“No problem, Cas.” He liked the way Dean smiled at him. “Oh, let me help you out.”

“Oh, please, don’t. You don’t have to—”

But Dean was already out of the car and opening his door for him.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, his face red.

He ungracefully got out of the car, and slung his backpack on. The crutches were an annoyance that he had to get used to soon.

“Yeah, you good?” Dean asked him.

“Yes, thank you.” Castiel glanced at him. Despite his protests, Dean had walked him all the way to the door. “Thank you so much. I— I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean grinned again. Castiel would never get tired of that. “Goodbye, Cas. Take care, okay?”

Castiel murmured an okay, and then Dean was off.

“Goodbye,” Castiel whispered at the retreating car. As he watched him go, he realised he never learned his name.


	2. Down the End of the Lonely Street

Dean was distracted. Ever since THAT day, he couldn’t focus on his… job, so to speak. Every time he opened a dumpster he could see Castiel lying there, unconscious, alone, scared. It got so bad he started having nightmares. What if he’d been too late? What if he hadn’t been there at all?

They were having a family dinner. The four of them all around the table. It was a relative quiet affair. His mom and dad had their own conversation. Most of the time, Dean would have plenty to add, but right now Dean didn’t hear anything.

Sam was quiet as well. He usually was when he came home. It was his way of not causing arguments. Which Dean appreciated. There was only so much fighting he could handle. Sam had a place near the school where he stayed during the week and he came back in the weekends, unless he had tests he had to study for.

Dean glanced up at his brother next to him. Should he ask him? There was no harm in asking, right? Just showing concern.

“Hey, Sam,” Dean started as he stabbed a ravioli. “There’s this kid at your school. Dark messy hair. Electric blue eyes. Walks on crutches nowadays.” He shoved his fork in his mouth. “You know him?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve seen him around…” Sam said. He looked at Dean warily. “Why?”

Apparently his nonchalant act wasn’t as good as he thought it was.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“…Depends…” Uh-oh. Sam used those narrowed eyes of his. His lawyer-y skills were trying to figure out his motives.

“Keep an eye on him for me. I don’t think he has a lot of friends.”

“How do _you_ know him?”

Dean focussed on his plate. “Uh… I was around your school after hours one night and he was still around.”

“And what were you doing at my school after hours?”

“You really want an answer to that?”

Sam glared at him.

“Look, will you check up on him or not? I’m—” He licked his lips. “I’m worried about him.”

Sam stared at him. Dean tried not to squirm under his gaze. No matter that Sam was his younger brother, he had an intense frickin’ stare.

“Ugh, fine.”

Dean grinned and slapped his shoulder. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy!”

Dean snorted as he dodged the napkin Sam threw at him. No matter that Sammy was eighteen years old, he’d always be the little brother Dean would always annoy.

* * *

Castiel was sitting by himself again. He liked it better this way. That’s what he told himself. He almost believed it. He ate his lunch in silence, a book in his lap. He ignored the other kids laughing, giggling and having a good time. He had his book. Plenty of friends to find in those.

“Hi.”

Castiel started as someone stopped in front of him, and actually spoke to him. He looked around him. Surely there had to be someone else, right?

But no. The boy —man?— kept staring at him, waiting for a reply.

“Um. Hello?”

“I’m Sam.”

“Hi, Sam.”

“You’re… Cas, right?”

Castiel nodded dumbly. He was the second person to call him that. He much preferred it to some of the other names that were thrown at his head.

“May I sit?” Sam asked as he pointed at the spot next to Castiel.

Castiel nodded again.

Sam took the seat.

Castiel tried to focus back on his book, but couldn’t even read one sentence and remember it.

“Are…” he began, “are you waiting for someone?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Sam bit his nail as he glanced at Castiel. Castiel couldn’t even see the words anymore. He just stared into his book, all the while aware of Sam staring at him. When he glanced over, Sam still stared at him. He had a young look to him. Most likely a freshman like himself. And he kept staring.

Castiel finally decided he had enough and almost grabbed his bag to leave, when Sam spoke.

“How do you know Dean?” he asked finally.

Castiel forgot to leave. “Who?”

“You do know him, right?”

“I— I’m not sure?”

“He’s my brother.”

Castiel squirmed in his seat. He didn’t even know Sam. How was he supposed to know who his brother was? Maybe this was one of those social things he failed at. His head tilted to the side.

“I”m sorry, I don’t know.”

“Dirty blond, freckles all over his face, thinks he’s so awesome. Oh wait, I have a picture.”

Castiel glanced around him desperately. He had no idea what was going on. There were people staring at them. Castiel tried not to become paranoid. Was Sam playing some game on him? Was this all part of some elaborate prank?

“Here. This is him.”

Castiel peered at the screen presented to him and gasped. That was him. His hero is shining armour.

“That’s Dean?”

“Yeah. You do know him, don’t you?”

Castiel could only nod. He did know him. He’d remember that face anywhere. He was smiling in the picture, and it made him beautiful. More beautiful. Castiel felt his cheeks heat up as he gazed all features of Dean’s face.

“His name is Dean?”

“Yeah.”

Sam studied his face closely while Castiel continued to study Dean.

“Are…” Sam’s eyes darted from the phone Castiel had accidentally taken from him to Castiel’s face. “Are you his boyfriend?”

Castiel started again, the phone almost dropped from his hands. He fumbled for it and managed to save it. He hurriedly shoved it back in Sam’s hands.

“What? No. I-I- I’m not his— Why would you— I don’t even— No, I’m not.”

This time Sam tilted his head. “You wanna be his boyfriend?”

Castiel couldn’t look at him.

“I— No. No, I don’t.” It sounded like a lie even to his own ears.

Sam just blinked at him. Then he dug in his bag and retrieved a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled fast and then handed the note to Castiel.

“Here.” Castiel accepted hesitantly. “This is his number. Oh, wait.” Sam stole the note back, and scribbled an extra line to it. “This is mine. Y’know, just in case. Dean can be weird. I can translate for you.”

“I— Why are you doing this?”

“Dean asked me to.”

“He… asked you to give me his number?”

“Well, not exactly…” Sam said carefully. “But this way you can decide whether Dean is worth your time. And if we had to wait for Dean it would take forever.”

Castiel didn’t know what to do. Could he trust Sam? Were the numbers he gave even real?

The bell rang.

“I’ve gotta go. My next class is on the other side. See you around, Cas.”

“Bye,” Castiel said as he watched Sam go.

He glanced down at the note, at the two phone numbers, before he hurriedly added them both into his phone. Just in case his classmates decided to steal the note from him. Castiel wouldn’t put it past them. Nothing would surprise him right now.

Everyone around him was making their way to class, though some were still watching Castiel. He didn’t like those looks all that much. He grabbed his stuff and his crutches and make his way to his classroom.

* * *

Castiel had a study period. He was supposed to do homework, but instead he fiddled with his phone, debating whether to try those phone numbers Sam gave him.

_Hello, Sam. This is Castiel._

Castiel hesitated so long to send that. Finally he just pressed the send button and worried at his bottom lip. How long did it usually take to get a response? Would he even answer? It could still be a joke. He might as well be laughing at Castiel along with his friends. Only Sam didn’t seem the type.

It took less than a minute before he got a response.

Sam: _Hey, Castiel. Nice to hear you, or read you anyway. I’ll talk more later. I’m in Crowley’s class and if he catches sight of my phone im DEAD._

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Crowley liked to have the entire’s class attention on him. And if anyone for whatever reason had his phone out, it meant serious trouble. The fact that Sam even texted at all was very brave indeed. Castiel refrained from texting again. Crowley wasn’t known for being a fair teacher when it came to phones. So instead Castiel picked up his Latin text book and began to read.

* * *

Castiel’s phone whistled with a new text message. A few heads turned in his direction. His face red, Castiel quickly silenced his phone. He always had the sound turned on, because no one called or texted him anyway. And this way he could answer immediately if his mother called.

He discreetly looked at the screen. Of course it was Sam. Who else could it be?

He opened the message.

_Phew. Finally done. Honestly. Crowley is MEAN. Does he teach you government as well?_

He typed his reply. _No. I don’t have his class. Zackeriah is my government teacher._

Sam’s reply once again came within a minute.

_Not sure if that’s better or not._

Castiel couldn’t help but smile. This was fun. The texting, the mundaneness of it all. But still. It felt… it was almost like… Sam was his friend. Might be. Potentially.

Sam_: Did you text Dean yet?_

Castiel blanched. His hands trembled. It took him a while before he could type his answer, which was a simple no.

Sam: _Why not? It’s alright you know. Dean’s a cool guy. (Don’t tell him I said that.) He’ll be thrilled._

Castiel had a hard time believing that. He worried at his thumbnail, his fingers held a loose hold on his phone.

Finally he typed a new message.

_I wouldn’t know what to say._

Sam: _Just tell him, hi, how are you, this is castiel, sam gave me your number, is it okay if we text_

Sam:_ Something like that_

Castiel worried at his bottom lip.

_I don’t know. Maybe it isn’t such a good idea._

Sam: _Dude, come on! Please?_

Sam:_ Just say what i said_

Castiel sighed. He pulled up Dean’s contact info and opened a new message. Then stared at the empty screen, his fingertips hovering over the buttons. Finally, with another sigh, he did as Sam advised, and typed his message — with better punctuation — and again waited. He stared at the send button. Could he really do this? He never did this. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the button.

“Oh…” Castiel gasped. He sent it. “Oh no.”

He hastily dropped his phone and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.

His phone vibrated. Castiel stared wide-eyed at the thing. Oh. No.

With shaking fingers, he picked it up again, filled with worry. Then he sagged in relief. It was Sam.

Sam: _And? Did you text him yet?_

Castiel huffed out a laugh. He texted him that he did.

Sam: _OMFG, really?!!! Awesome! What did he say?!!_

_He hasn’t answered yet._

Sam: _Dont worry. He will. He likes you. A LOT!!_

Castiel liked Sam’s enthusiasm and his assurance, but he didn’t quite believe it. He knew HE liked Dean, but he found it hard to believe Dean liked him back even a little, let alone a lot.

His phone pinged again in his head, startling Castiel, and caused more heads to swivel his way. Embarrassment swept through him as he quickly turned off the noise and set it to vibrate. Then he actually looked at the message.

Dean: _Heya Cas, yeah its okay, i’d ilke that aghurry_

Castiel frowned at his message. Before he could reply, Dean sent him a follow-up message.

Dean:_*like_

Dean: _*actually_

Dean: _Sorry. Dont text alot_

Castiel ran his tongue over his lips.

Sam: _And? Come OONN cas, whatd he say??_

Castiel bit back a grin. He actually grinned. About what? A badly written text? A little brother encouraging him to text his crush?

_He says he’d like that._

Sam: _I KNEW IT!!_

Sam: _Told you cas._

Castiel smiled down at his phone.

_I’ll never question you again._

His phone was slapped out of his hands and clattered to the ground.

“Who are you texting, nerd?”

Castiel didn’t want to look up. “Just… a friend,” he mumbled.

He heard a cackle. “Since when do you have friends, nerd?”

That was a little too close to home. Castiel could feel the tears sting his eyes.To hide them from sight he bent over to pick up his phone, but it was too far, his fingers barely grazed the edge.

“Why don’t you just stand up, loser?”

With those words Castiel was pushed from his seat. He landed hard on the ground, the chair also tipped to the ground with a large clang. Castiel bit his tongue to stop from making any noise. His leg almost exploded with pain. He grimaced, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“What’s going on?”

Castiel closed his eyes in relief.

“Nothing, miss. The klutz here fell, I was just helping him up.”

A pair of talons on his arms hoisted him up.

“Isn’t that right, _Castiel_?”

Castiel didn’t say anything. He kept his head down.

“Everyone back to your seats.”

Castiel sat silently, eyes on his book, his hands folded in his lap. He wanted to check his phone, but didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention again. His head pounded with humiliation. Tears threatened to spill, but Castiel stubbornly held them back. That was the LAST thing he needed right now.

—

When he finally checked his phone on break, when he was mercifully alone, he had nine messages waiting for him. He allowed himself a smile as he opened them.

Sam: _GOOD_

Sam: _im awesome at things like this_

Sam: _did he say nything else?_

Sam: _cas you still there?_

Sam: _helloooo??_

Sam: _you probly paying attention to class_

Sam: _text me okay??_

Castiel smiled at the messages. His breath halted in his throat as he opened Dean’s message.

Dean: _how are you holdin up? you doin’ okay?_

Castiel licked his lips. His fingers hovers over the keys.

_I’m_

What? Fine? He wasn’t fine. He was completely miserable. And in pain. But you didn’t say that, right? This was just Dean being polite. He barely KNEW him.

_I’m doing well, all things considered, thank you._

_Also, I’d like to thank you for all your help. I really appreciate it._

That seemed like a good thing to say. He shot a message to Sam as well.

_Yes, I’m still here._

Before Castiel could even figure out what he wanted to write in his next message, Sam had already answered.

Sam: _I didn’t get you into trouble did I?_

Sam: _im sorry if i did_

_It’s quite alright, Sam. I didn’t get in trouble._

Just before he hit send, he realised that wasn’t true. Sure, he didn’t get in trouble with his teacher, but his classmates did harass him.

He sent it anyway. Sam didn’t need to feel guilty about this.

Sam: _Wheh_

Sam: _kay_

Sam: _didn’t want you gettin into trouble_

Sam: _btway, how come you didnt know deans name??_

Castiel bit his lip.

_He never formally introduced himself, and by the time I realised I didn’t know his name, it felt awkward to ask._

Sam: _So how did you two meet? Dena wasnt very clear about that_

Castiel breathed out deeply as he wondered how he had to tell this story in something as impersonal as texts. Castiel decided to just tell the bare bones, making it more matter-of-fact, just to make things easier.

It was still hard. Castiel typed slow, with lots of pauses just to make sure he didn’t cry. His throat did feel tight at the end of his message. He sent it before he could delete everything again.

Afterwards he pocketed his phone and didn’t look at it again. He didn’t look at his phone again until after his political science class. He focussed as well as he could, which he managed through years of practice. A skill that had been forced on his shoulders throughout years of hardship.

Castiel’s fingers tightened around his pen. He took a deep breath and paid closer attention to his professor. The steady scratching on paper soothed his nerves a little with its familiar sound.Besides, ignoring his problems was a good coping mechanism, despite what the experts might say. So ignoring them is what he did.

* * *

He had a few messages from Sam again, but Castiel couldn’t force himself to read them. Maybe in a moment. Maybe not at all. He just knew he couldn’t deal with whatever Sam had to say. It would be too much. What Castiel needed was to calm down, emotionally, and then he could revisit this situation.

“Hey, Cas.”

Castiel looked up and once again found himself face to face with Sam. Oh. That was not good. If they started talking about that he might start to cry.

“Hello, Sam.”

“May I join you?”

“Of course.”

Sam sat down next to him.

If was very similar to the first time Sam sat down next to him. Sam bit his fingernail again as he glanced at Castiel. Castiel was all tense as he waited for Sam to speak.

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Sam said eventually.

Castiel started to expect this from Sam, silence and then his words from seemingly nowhere.

“What are you sorry for, Sam?” Castiel asked with a head tilt, genuinely curious. As far he knew Sam had done nothing wrong. Unless it HAD all been a joke. Castiel really couldn’t bear the thought.

“Just… what happened… with you. It’s not right. You shouldn’t have to go through all that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, well, SOMEone should apologise. I doubt those asshats will, so…” Sam rubbed at the back of his neck.

Tears stung in his eyes, but not in a bad way. He cared. There was no denying it. Sam cared. It wasn’t a joke.

Castiel smiled. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Soo… what’chu reading?” Sam asked him.

Castiel lit up as he picked up his book again. He hoped Sam was ready for a long impassioned speech about Ineffable Husbands.

* * *

“You were right.”

Dean looked up from tools in his hand in surprise. Those words were not a regular occurrence, especially not from his brother— who should be at school right now, considering it being a Monday.

“Come again?”

Sam sank onto the bench opposite of Dean on the picknick table. He leaned his head on his hand.

“Cas,” Sam just said. “I don’t think he has ANY friends.”

And wasn’t THAT just a knife to Dean’s heart. He had his suspicions that he was low on friends, not that he didn’t have any. Dean swallowed with some effort. He glanced down and didn’t say anything.

“That’s…” Dean cleared his throat. “How is he? I mean…”

“Didn’t you ask him?”

“I did!” Dean huffed, grabbing his phone. “He said… wait a minute. How do you know that?”

“Seriously? Who do you think gave him your number?”

Dean glowered at him. “Yeah, about that…”

“Before you say anything, I didn’t think you’d mind, that’s why I didn’t ask, since you’re the one who wanted to keep an eye on him.”

“I didn’t say give him my number!”

“You’re the one who said you’d love to talk to him.”

“Seriously, did you two giggle over my texts or something? Did he braid your hair as well?”

“Don’t be mean,” Sam said without any heat. He picked at a splinter with his fingernail. “He just needed some help. He was nervous.”

“Nervous?” Dean sat up at that.”Why would he be nervous?”

Sam sent him a bitchface. “Dean. He doesn’t have any friends. He doesn’t know how to talk to people. He needed some help.”

Dean pressed his lips together. He REALLY didn’t like that. Castiel was a good person. He didn’t deserve that.

“Could you…”

“Don’t worry.I’ll watch out for him. He’s really nice. I actually asked him about the book he was reading and— Dean, you should’ve watched him light up. He was completely caught up telling me everything I needed to know about it. I’m gonna go to the library today and pick up a copy.”

Dan groaned. “Oh my GOD, you nerd!”

“What? It sounded interesting. I wanna read it. It’s about this angel and demon who try to stop the apocalypse because they love their lives on earth too much.”

Dean had to admit, to himself at least, that it did sound interesting.

“So, to change the subject,” Dean started casually, which made Sam tense up. “Did you just come here to gossip, or was there something you needed?”

“I… actually, it’s…” Sam sighed and threw his best puppy-dog eyes at Dean. “Can you talk to dad and ask if can borrow the car?”

“Sam, I am not your middle man. Besides, since when do you even WANT to drive Baby?”

“Deaaaan, please, I have a…” Sam coughed into his fist and mumbled the last words.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Dean asked, a grin spilling on his face. He leaned in on his elbows. “I didn’t quite catch that, say that again.”

Sam glared at him. “I have a date.”

“No frickin’ way, Sammy, you’ve got a DATE? Who is it? What’s her name? Where’d you meet her? Tell me everything.”

“Dean, really, don’t. Just don’t.”

“Hey, you want my help to borrow the car, you gotta pay the price. So talk.”

Sam groaned.

“Quid pro quo, Clarice.”

Sam glared at him.

“Start easy, what’s her name?”

“Jess. Jessica Moore.”

“’S she pretty?”

Sam moaned. “Gorgeous. She’s… smart, and funny, and…”

Dean grinned at him.

“Dean, she’s just amazing. She’s… I think she’s the one.”

“Good for you, Sammy.” He was in love. That much was very clear to see. It was cute. His little brother was in love.

“Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“I can read it off your face.”

“I can’t help that you’re being all adowable.”

“Shut up.” It would have been more believable if Sam didn’t burst out laughing.

“So when’s your date?”

“This Friday.”

“I’ll make sure you get the car.”

“Thanks, Dean.”

“I’ll put a kiddie seat in the driver’s seat.”

“Ugh, jerk!”

Dean grinned again. “Get outta here, bitch. I got work to do.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

Dean saluted him with his screwdriver, before he went back to it. His phone was lying on the table, just in the corner of his eye, and he resolutely left it there. He would NOT text him. He would NOT.

Dean groaned as he leaned back in his seat as he rubbed his hand over his eyes. He snatched up his phone and unlocked it, going to his chat with Castiel.

_Heya Cas_


	3. Can Anybody Find Me Somebody to Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There is a conversation between Castiel and his mother that shows emotional abuse. It's a little bit intense. I had some trouble writing it, so if you know it hits you hard just skip it. It's between two breaks.

Castiel woke up early on Friday. He really didn’t want to be awake, but at least it was the last day of school for the week. He rolled over and grabbed his phone, a habit he had picked up on since he started chatting with Sam. And Dean.

A smile curled onto his lips as he thought of Dean.

No matter how much he tried to, his crush on him didn’t tamp down. According to Sam, Dean liked him, too, but he really didn’t know if he believed that. He WANTED to believe it., but he didn’t know if he could.

Dean: _mornin’ sunshine_

Castiel’s smile widened.

_Good morning, Dean_

He bit at his nail as he waited to see if Dean would respond.

Dean had expressed an intense and utter loathing at rising before eleven, and offered Castiel “his condolences for his missed time with his bed.”

Dean: _euothbx oi_

Castiel tilted his head. He laughed a little. There was no way there was a word in there.

_What was that? :)_

Dean: _too early_

Dean: _dropped th damn phone on my nose -.-_

This time Castiel laughed out loud. He rubbed his face in his pillow. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He could just see it now. Dean in bed, all bleary-eyed as he tried to type, phone hovering over his face, not at all awake yet, his fingers scrambling for a hold— and failing.

_I do acknowledge you being conscious at the break of dawn to be uncharacteristic to your usual behaviour and must express my astonishment to this fact._

Castiel bit his lip as he sent it. He meant it as a joke. He hoped Dean wouldn’t mind. Maybe it was cruel to send that. He worried more and more as time went on.

Then he got another text, and he relaxed somewhat. Then another one followed.

Dean: _DUDE!! Too. Damn. Early._

Dean: _small words, pls_

Castiel laughed again. He rubbed at his forehead.

_Why are you awake, Dean? You don’t like mornings?_

Dean: _I set my alarm_

_Oh, you’ve planned something today?_

It took a while before Dean responded. Castiel began to get nervous.

Dean:_ wanted to say gomoring to you_

Dean: *_good morning_

This time it was Castiel who dropped his phone.

“Oh.”

He hid his face in his pillow, a keen left his throat. His face had to be SOO red right now, because that, that was by far the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him.

“Castiel!”

Castiel’s smile faded off his face at his mother’s voice. He hugged his pillow tight. He released a deep breath, before he headed downstairs.

* * *

He arrived at the bottom of the stairs last, his eyes trained on his feet.

“Yes, mother?”

His mother didn’t look up as she shrugged on her coat.

“Castiel, I just wanted to remind you that I will be leaving on a business trip, so you’ll be on your own for a week.”

Castiel frowned. This was the first time he heard about it, but he kept quiet. He just nodded.

“I want you straight home after school, is that understood?”

“I, actually wanted to go to the library…”

“Honestly, how are you even supposed to find a girlfriend if you keep cooped up inside with those books? You should join a sports team or something. ”

“Mother, I— my leg is broken?”

“Don’t take that insolent tone with me.”

Castiel flinched.

“…Sorry.”

His mother finally turned to Castiel, a smile on her face.

“Come over here and give your mother a kiss.”

Castiel shuffled his way over. He kissed his mother’s proffered cheek.

“Have a safe trip, mother.” His voice was thick with tears, not that his mother heard— or cared. She already had her bag in her hand and moved toward the door.

“Castiel, get this door for me. Can’t you see my hands are full?”

A tear slipped down his nose as he dutifully got the door for his mother.

“Thank you, dear. Have a lovely day at school.”

The door closed with a quiet click and Castiel let out his first sob. Tears fell freely now. He pressed his back against the door. He wanted to slip down. He NEEDED to sit, but he would never get up back. So he just cried and hugged his arms tight over his chest. He sobbed until his chest started hurting. He cried until he had no more tears left and still he sat there, hugging his himself tightly.

Castiel stayed like that. He just breathed in and out deep for a while. Then he took one last deep breath, sat up and wiped the tears over his face.

Then he made his painstakingly slow way upstairs again.

* * *

He paused for a moment in the doorway and just stared. He needed to get ready. He should REALLY get ready.He collapsed back on his bed, face first, wincing slightly for the sting that his leg sent up. He rolled onto his back— carefully, and grabbed his phone.

_I feel like skipping school today._

Castiel stared long and hard at the words. He stared so long, his phone blacked out. With a sigh he unlocked his phone again and deleted the message. No. He wouldn’t send that.

He stared long and hard, but nothing clever came to mind.

His phone pinged and Castiel started so hard he dropped his phone— right onto his face.

“Ow.”

He rubbed his nose, suddenly very much more sympathetic to Dean.

Sam: _I need a new book_

Castiel frowned. He waited with replying to see if Sam would specify.

Sam: _Just finished Good Omens_

Ah… That kind of new book. Castiel let himself smile.

_What did you think of Good Omens?_

Sam: _it was AMAAZING!!_

Sam: _I love it!!_

Castiel chuckled. Part of his dark cloud drifted away.

_Should I tell you they made a TV series out of it?_

Sam: _O.O OMGGGGG!!!!_

Sam: _I NEED ITT!!!_

Castiel let out a laugh. His eyes were a bit watery again. Apparently that’s just what HE needed. He wiped the tears away again, but this time they didn’t bother him that much.

_It isn’t all that long, though. It’s six episodes._

Sam:_ doesnt matter_

Sam: _maybe ill get dean to watch too._

Sam: _he low key loves this stuff_

Castiel inhaled sharply at that. Dean. He completely forgot to answer him.

He quickly went back to their conversation. Dean hadn’t sent anything else. What else WOULD he have sent anyway? It felt like Castiel had to say something, but he didn’t know what. He just knew he had to say SOMETHING.

_I need your help_ he sent to Sam.

Sam shot a text back immediately. _Shoot. Wahts up?_

How could he best explain it? Castiel bit his lip. He went back to his conversation with Dean and made a screenshot. He sent that along to Sam, along with, _What do I say to this?_

Sam: _!!!!!!_

Castiel frowned at that.

Sam: _That’s woow._

Sam: _So unDeanlike_

_Is that bad?_

Sam: _NO!! Definitely not!!_

Castiel waited for actual help, though. He REALLY needed help.

Sam: _Tell him, You must be tired because you’ve been running through my mind all morinng ;)_

Castiel’s entire face exploded with heat.

_I am not sending that!_

Sam: _XD_

Sam: _How about, Just thinking about you makes my morning bright?_

While it was true, it was too much to send. Maybe asking for Sam’s help wasn’t such a good idea.

Sam: _Or this on, I hope you enjoy a perfect day today._

Huh. That could work. Yes. He’d send that. Along with a thank you, perhaps. Yes, that sounded like a plan.

He retyped that to Dean’s conversation, when Sam sent him another. He paused his message and checked it out, just in case it was better.

Sam: _Good morning to the man that fuels my desires XD_

Castiel blanched at the words.

_DEFINITELY NOT!!1_

Sam: _XDDDD_

* * *

Castiel wanted to cry. This day dragged on FOREVER.

He had no idea why today was so bad. It wasn’t worse than the others. Maybe because freedom was so close.

He just knew this lecture would just drag on and on. At least it was his last class. Then he could go home. Maybe he’d rewatch Good Omens.

He texted Sam and Dean during the day. He got very good at doing it stealthily, not just to avoid being caught by his teachers, but his classmates as well.

Dean became more talkative as the day progressed. Not surprising considering the amount of coffee he inhaled, or so he said. Castiel really enjoyed the picture of a sleep-bedraggled Dean, all mussed-up hair and bleary-eyed, coffee cup in hand. Castiel smiled as he drifted off, that image becoming more defined. What he wouldn’t give to wake up next to him, his body pressed against him, his face rubbing against his freckled shoulder. Hearing his soft murmurs, seeing the scrunch of his nose.

A sigh left his lips.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, interrupting his daydream.

Dean: _Learn anythnig today?_

Castiel flushed as the subject of his daydream inquired after him.

_Four hours of lectures and I can barely remember my own name, but I know how to kill a man using a toothbrush so there’s that._

Dean: _O.O!!_

Dean: _What kind of classes are you TAKNIG?!_

Castiel smiled.

_I’m studying to be a forensic criminologist. Our slogan is “Can’t run fast enough to be a serial killer so I’ll just help the police catch them.”_

Dean’s message took about a minute.

Dean: _I seriously just laughed out loud. Tats awesome Cas._

Castiel flushed with pride. He made Dean laugh. He wondered what that sounded like. Would he ever find out? He sure hoped so.

* * *

Dean pulled up at the school with ten minutes to spare. He killed the engine as he waited. He sent off a text to Sam to tell him he arrived. He got a thumbs up back.

Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He nodded along to the music as he people watched. A lot of gorgeous faces walked those halls. He wondered which one Sam managed to bag.

He looked out at the courtyard and caught sight of a familiar mop of messy black hair. A grin spread on his face as opened the car door.

“Cas!” he called out.

Castiel frowned and looked around warily.

Dean waved at him, still grinning. He saw Castiel’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open. Dean couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from his mouth, even as he made his way over.

“Dean.” Castiel’s eyes were so wide and blue. Blue, like frickin’ hell. How could Dean have forgotten that detail?

“Hey, buddy.”

Castiel’s cheeks tinted pink. It was cute on him.

“How are you?”

“I—I— I’m— yeah.”

Dean suppressed his smile.

Castiel ducked his head. He cleared his throat and looked back up, catching Dean’s eyes. “I’m good, thank you for asking. How are you, Dean?”

“I’m great!” Dean didn’t look into the fact that just seeing Castiel made his day a whole lot better. “All done for the day then?”

Castiel’s smile was radiant.

“I am. Thank God for that. Today’s lectures were positively too arduous.”

“Learn any more ways to kill a man?”

Castiel sputtered and turned once again. He looked around furtively to see if anyone heard.

“I… yes, there are, of course, more ways to… kill someone.”

“You don’t say…”

“Dean!”

Dean looked up at the shout and grinned as he spotted his little brother making his way toward them.

“Hey, Sammy.”

Dean chuckled at the scowl that replaced his smile.

“It’s SAM, Dean.”

“Sure thing, Sammy.”

Sam punched his shoulder, which just made Dean laugh.

“All ready for tonight then?”

Sam gave a smile, though Dean could see the nerves he was hiding. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m—” He swallowed. “All ready.”

“Awww, Sammy, it’s so cute to see you nervous for your first date.”

“Jerk.”

“I— I should get going…”

Dean started. He didn’t forget about Castiel per se, but… All he knew was he didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

Sam almost jumped upon Castiel.

“Cas, I wanted to thank you again for the book suggestions. And I’m gonna look up that Good Omens series.”

Castiel had given him the name of a series he really liked, Graceling, as well as a few authors he felt would be a good match for Sam. “Of course, Sam,” he said with a head tilt.

Castiel was a bit confused why Sam would say that. He already said so in their texts. Also the way he glanced between Dean and Castiel was somewhat suspicious.

“Good Omens? Wasn’t that the book you were reading? The angel/demon thing?”

There was interest in Dean’s voice, though he seemed to pretend not to.

Castiel frowned. Sometimes he really didn’t follow what happened.

“Yeah, apparently they shot a series, too.” There was a sly smile on Sam’s lips. “Cas? You don’t happen to own it, do you? Maybe you could watch it together.”

Oh. OH. That was… that was what Sam was saying.

Castiel felt his cheeks heat up. He fiddled with his crutches.

“Sam…” Dean growled.

“What?” Sam was the picture of innocence, though Dean seemed hardly inclined to believe him.

“I… I do have it,” Castiel mumbled. “If you’d… I mean, if you want to…”

Dean turned back to Castiel, and gave him a soft smile.

“I… That would um…” Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, while Sam hovered at the edge, grinning like mad. “Get lost you.” Dean shoved his little brother away, red-faced.

“I can’t. You haven’t given me the keys yet.”

Dean scowled and held the car keys out for him. Before Sam could take them, however, Dean pulled them back.

“Not. A scratch.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“I KNOW, Dean.”

Sam grabbed the keys, but Dean held on.

“I mean it. Not a scratch.”

He finally let go.

Sam walked over to the driver’s seat, Dean right behind him.

“Take care of her, okay.”

“Of course. Dean, I’m taking her bowling and after, I thought a movie underneath the stars, and…” He suddenly stopped and exhaled deeply. “You’re talking about the car, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying, you tend to ride the brakes.”

“Dean, I know how to drive!”

“Just think of her as a woman. A gorgeous, gorgeous woman.”

“Okay, that’s it. I’m leaving.” He opened the door but just before he got in, he turned to Dean and said, “You know, I was gonna offer you a lift home or wherever, but…” He shook his head, and got in the car.

Dean watched his brother go, in his Baby, already wincing at his brother’s driving style.

He turned back to Castiel, who was squirming nervously.

Dean had to admit, he was kinda nervous, too. He tried not to show it.

“So…” he started, and Castiel looked up at him with wide eyes. “Good Omens at your place?” he asked with a grin.

“Would you— You want to—?”

“I mean, if you don’t mind me inviting myself over. I kinda did there. Sorry.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck again.

“I’d… I’d like that.”

Castiel’s smile was the sweetest thing ever. Dean couldn’t help his own smile.

“Alright.” He actually rocked on his feet. “Shall we?”


	4. Let Me Tempt You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, sorry for the long wait. I wasn't really happy with this chapter. It went on forever, but I didn't know where to cut it in half, so here's everything. 
> 
> But on the bright side, this is the longest chapter yet.
> 
> Be aware, there are some Good Omens parts/quotes in here. Bits and pieces, really. I didn't want to add too much and ruin it for those who haven't seen it.
> 
> And for those who've seen it, I'm sure you can recall what Cas and Dean are watching.
> 
> Have fun.

The ride to Castiel’s house was uneventful.

Sort of.

Dean insisted on carrying Castiel’s bag, despite Castiel’s protests. He also made Castiel sit down, after kicking someone out of the handicapped seat. Dean then spent the entire trip standing near enough that their knees kept brushing together. Castiel couldn’t really focus on anything else.

Every time the bus lurched it would send Dean that much closer to Castiel. It also made Castiel’s heart beat faster. He rubbed his hands on his legs.

Dean told him about Sam’s date tonight, and how he’d basically begged him if he could borrow the car, thus explaining why he was even there. He also said something about an old car — Castiel had no idea which, Dean did say so, but Castiel had no head for cars — he was fixing up at his uncle Bobby’s place.

He shot a glance at Dean, before he looked away.

He didn’t know where to look. If he lowered his eyes a little, he stared straight at Dean’s crotch, which — while something Castiel was privately deeply interested in — was not something he should stare at in public.

Same went with his chest, though Castiel might get away with that out of curiosity for the text on his shirt. But then again, he didn’t even see the text when he could see the definite lines that lay beneath the fabric.

Craning his neck up the entirety of the trip was not good for him, even though he would like nothing more than to gaze upon Dean’s face. From this angle, Dean looked positively angelic, or even Godlike. The way he stared up at Dean’s freckled nose, the way his lips formed the words to give voice to melodious sound that Castiel wanted to listen to forever.

Dean snapped his fingers in front of Castiel’s face.

He started.

He looked up at Dean’s eyes, which were shining with amusement.

“Are you even paying attention?”

“Y-yes. Of course.”

Dean smirked at him.

“Really? Then what did I just say?”

Castiel glanced out the window, trying frantically to recall just what Dean had said, when he saw familiar surroundings.

“This is our stop,” he said as he pushed the Stop button.

Dean huffed out a laugh.

“Nice save, Cas.”

Castiel blushed and promised himself that he wouldn’t drift off again when Dean was talking.

“So,” Dean said as he slung Castiel’s bag better on his shoulder. “Which came first?”

Castiel glanced at him.

“Book or the series?”

“Books in general are the pre-runner of a series,” Castiel stated matter-of-factly.

Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m not stupid, Cas. I meant, did you read the book first as you should, or did you discover it when the series came out?”

Castiel decided to pretend his cheeks weren’t heating up. “Book. Definitely book. I read it when I was younger and fell in love with it. So when I heard they were making a series, I was a little apprehensive at first, but also excited, because, they were making my favourite book into a series.

“Of course, they changed a few things, but they don’t really bug me all that much. Both are amazing as they are, and I love them for their differences. Book Az is tough, and a little ruthless. He glares at customers, scares gangsters away, while Show Az is just pure sweetness. There’s no part of him that ISN’T the sugary/lemon meringue frosting you get on top.

“And that’s what so great about it. The book questions authority and whatever role society gives you. The show is more about the terrible risks of loving, and the strength that comes from being honest.”

Castiel cut himself off then, mildly embarrassed at his monologuing.

“I-I’m sorry, you haven’t even seen the show yet, and I’m spoiling it for you.”

“No, don’t apologise,” Dean said immediately. “I dig the way you talk about it. This is really special to you, innit?”

Castiel gave a little smile. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Well, then I’m honoured you’re sharing this with me.”

That’s not the only thing Castiel wanted to share with him, but he elected not to say that just yet. Yet? Did that mean he was going to eventually say it? He didn’t think he was that brave. But he wanted more.

When they finally arrived at Castiel’s house he was a nervous wreck. Castiel’s hands shook trying to fit the key in the lock, and he so hoped Dean didn’t catch that.

He pushed the door opened and stepped back to let Dean enter first.

Dean stared around the entrance hall with curiosity. Castiel winced as he entered, though not from pain.

“It’s very…”

Castiel pressed his lips together. He looked around as well. His mother demanded a meticulous household, which meant everything had to have a purpose. If not, then it didn’t enter the doors. So the interior was very minimalist. There were no decorations, no art, no nothing. No life. Not even a plant — even though plants did have a purpose, but he hadn’t convinced his mother yet.

“…White.”

Ah. Yes, it was that, too. As well as lifeless, it was also colourless. Lots of grey and white. Sometimes a little silver or black. But mostly white.

Castiel leaned his crutches against the wall.

He sat down in the chair near the door and set about to pull his shoes off.

“Oh, you need help?” Dean asked.

“It’s fine, thank you,” Castiel said as he wrestled with his shoe. “I’m getting good at it.”

“How do you even get dressed in the morning? Looks like a hassle.”

“Well, it is. But I’ve gotten quite accomplished at it. It helps that I’ve always been incredibly flexible. Though at the moment it does hurt more, of course.”

“Really…?”

Castiel frowned, his head tilted as he studied Dean’s reaction. That wasn’t how Dean usually sounded. It was kind of… breathy. His eyes were also somewhat glazed over from the flexible comment onward, not really focussed on anything, as if he were imagining… SOMETHING.

“Are you— Do… do you want anything to drink?” Castiel asked. Maybe that would help.

Dean snapped out of his trance and his eyes found Castiel’s. “You got Coke?”

“Yes, I do.” Castiel had no idea how he was going to do this. He supposed he could hop around without his crutches for a short distance. “Let me just…” He went for his crutches, but Dean stopped him.

“No, it’s cool. Just point me to the kitchen and I’ll be okay. Trust me,” he said with a grin. “I know my way around in a kitchen.”

“Oh. It’s…” Castiel managed to point him in the right direction, despite the crutches. “…Just there.”

“Cool. Be right back.”

“The glasses are in the cupboard,” Castiel called out after him.

“Relax, Cas! I got it.”

Castiel bit his lip at the absurdity of the situation. Dean was in his house. Dean was in his kitchen. Dean was getting them Cokes. Dean was going to watch Good Omens with him. Dean was going sit next to him and watch his favourite show.

He took a deep breath and told himself to stay calm.

Castiel eventually nestled himself onto the couch, his leg carefully elevated. He adjusted the pillow a little, and promptly his crutches fell to the ground. Castiel groaned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. Every time. This happened way too often. Whatever. He wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

He turned on the TV and opened Amazon Prime. He scrolled through the different series and suggested for you in favour for finding his old familiar Good Omens. He smiled when the first episode loaded. No matter how many times he watched this, he’d always love it. He paused it as he waited for Dean.

He smoothed down his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

_Dean is in my house O.O_

_Dean is going to sit next to me while we’re watching Good Omens_

_What do I do, Sam?_

Was that weird? It was probably weird.

Sam just sent him a thumbs up back.

Sam: _Have fun with your date ;)_

Castiel blushed furiously.

_It’s not_

He stopped. Wasn’t it?

He rubbed his hands over his face. Neither one of them mentioned it. But did that make it less of one?

He carefully deleted his words and replaced them with _Is it?_

Sam: _It is SOO a date_

Castiel glanced back over to the kitchen. Dean still hadn’t appeared yet. He wanted to call out if he could find it, but instead turned back to his phone.

_Are you sure? What if Dean doesn’t think so?_

Sam: _turst me._

Sam: _Im always right remember?_

Sam: _pro hint, if he “casually” puts his arm around youre shoulders, its DEFINITELY a date_

Castiel swallowed nervously. His fingers trembled on his phone.

Sam: _Also, try putting your head on his shoulder ;)_

Castiel moaned into his hands. He didn’t think he could do this. He wasn’t good with social interactions. What if he went too far.

“Somebody die?” Dean asked as he waltzed back into the room, a tray with drinks and snacks balanced on top. “I heard a bang earlier. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a toothbrush.”

Castiel stared at him over the top of his hands in wonder. “Where did you—?” He stared at the assortment of nuts, carrots and crackers, along with dips and cheeses. “You found all that in the kitchen?”

“Uh, yeah? Why? Shit, I should’ve asked first. ’S it okay I grabbed this stuff? I figured it’d be cool, but if it’s not I can go out and buy some replacements—”

“No, it’s fine! I was just, surprised, that’s all.”

Dean grinned as plopped down next to Cas. He threw his arm around the couch and—coincidentally— around Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel jumped slightly. His eyes widened and he did his best to remain calm.

Oh, dear. Was that “casually” putting his arm around his shoulders? It had to be. So this was a— It actually was a—

“So,” Dean said with a grin. “Let’s begin.”

Castiel took a breath. He could do this. Then he hit play.

The intro began, which made Castiel smile. He glanced at Dean to study his reaction. He enjoyed the expressions that crossed Dean’s face. He seemed to enjoy it. He snorted, chuckled, raised an eyebrow, grinned— And all of that in the first two minutes.

Castiel sank back into the familiar story, letting it carry him along once more. He liked everything about it. The settings, the actors, the twist on the original Biblical story, the humour.

As Crawley appeared Dean let out an approving noise. Then he frowned.

“Wait.” Dean sat straight up, his mouth open as he stared intently at the screen. “That’s David Tennant.”

Castiel glanced at him. “Yes, it is.” Castiel tried not to be too disappointed that Dean’s arm had fallen off his shoulders.

“Oh wow.” He let himself fall back against the couch. His hands fell to his lap. “Did not see that coming.”

Castiel hummed. He shifted a little in his seat. He recalled Sam’s words. He side-eyed Dean. His shoulder was right there! He swallowed and tried to summon up all his courage. About the time the rain started and Crawley shuffled closer to Aziraphale was the moment Castiel made a move of his own. He leaned in and placed his head on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean started at his touch and looked over at him.

“S-sorry, is this alright?” Castiel asked meekly.

Dean opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally.”

To emphasise that, Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel, actually pulling him closer. Castiel’s smile got so big— thankfully Dean couldn’t see. He burrowed himself deeper against Dean, and for once he didn’t pay any attention to his show. He was much more focussed on Dean.

The way he smelt. Lavender. And soap. Maybe lavender soap. And something underneath that was all Dean.

The way his chest rumbled whenever he laughed. His little “wows” and “Oh my Gods” and those adorable giggles that made Castiel smile.

The warmth that spread from everywhere they touched. The solid weight of his arm on his shoulders.

The way Dean’s thumb rubbed against Castiel’s skin in slow, slow swipes.

Castiel took in a deep breath and buried himself deeper in the crook of Dean’s arm.

He could stay there forever.

Castiel’s eyes fluttered.

* * *

Something brushed against Castiel’s nose. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed his face further in his pillow. His pillow rumbled. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Castiel knew that wasn’t right, but at the moment, he really didn’t care. He was too damn comfortable. The touch to his nose was back. Castiel groaned and swatted at it. Another rumble.

“Come on, Cas.”

Now the tender soft touch was upon his cheek.

“Wake up, sweetheart.”

Castiel smiled to himself. Sweetheart? That was… nice.

“Come on now. Up, up, up.” Gentle slaps on his cheek now.

He frowned. He squirmed a little— And a burst of pain shot through him. Castiel hissed out a breath, immediately awake, his hand reaching for his leg. He shouldn’t have twisted it. That HURT.

He sat up with a groan.

He frowned again as he looked around.

Why wasn’t he in his room?

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” a teasing voice next to him said.

And Castiel remembered.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned wide eyes to the person next to him.

“D-Dean.”

Dean grinned at him.

“Heyyy.”

“How long did I— Was I—?"

“Did you know that you snore?”

Castiel flushed with embarrassment. He turned away from Dean, one hand pressed to his face.

“Not loud or anything. Or the entire time, just y’know, the occasional,” and Dean proceeded to imitate snoring.

Castiel whined as he hid his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Heh, it’s okay. It happens.”

It didn’t make Castiel feel any better.

“Oh, and to answer your question, two episodes.”

“Oh.” Castiel deflated. Here he was presented the perfect opportunity to spend some quality time with Dean, and he went and fell asleep. AND he missed two episodes. He wasn’t pouting. Okay, maybe he was.

Dean chuckled at him, to which Castiel sent a small glare.

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy.”

Castiel wanted to say something witty back, or snap at him, or ANYTHING, but his mind drew blank.

“Here, have some Coke, it’s ah, probably flat by now. I can get you new if you want.”

“That’s fine,” Castiel said as he accepted the glass.

Dean also grabbed the tray with snacks. He carefully balanced it on their laps, and started munching on the cheese.

“So… Dean.”

Dean focussed wide eyes on Castiel’s, a block of cheese between his teeth. It shouldn’t be this mesmerising. Castiel cleared his throat.

“What do you think about the show so far?”

“I love it. It's funny. It’s totally British humour. Kinda like Douglas Adams with Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Or Monthy Python and the Holy Grail.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I don’t know those.”

“Oh, man, I’ve gotta show you those.”

Castiel trilled with pleasure. He’d really like that. More time with Dean. He was in.

“Who's your favourite so far?”

Dean snorted on laughter around his cheese. “I really love Crowley as a character.” He sat up as much as he could without unbalancing the tray and adopted his best British accent. “I understand you need a nanny.”

Castiel giggled at Dean’s Crowley impression.

“I’ve always rather liked Aziraphale.” He adopted his own accent, along with the exact lilt and speed to his words. “And I said, ‘Here you go, flaming sword, don’t panic. And don’t let the sun go down on you here.’”

“Seriously, how many times have you watched this?” Dean grinned at him.

“A few times,” Castiel hedged. More than a few times. He’d seen it when it came out. Then again. And again. He shifted a little. “Do you,” Castiel let out what he hoped was an indifferent shrug, “Do you wanna watch on?”

Dean bobbed his head. “Yeah. I like it.” He checked his watch. “I’ve still got some time.”

Castiel grinned. “Good.” He pressed play. “Episode three happens to be my very favourite episode.”

“That so?”

Castiel hummed in agreement. “Yes, it is. It’s… Well, you’ll see.”

* * *

Castiel missed it, because he was intently focussed on the screen, but Dean spent the very first moments of the intro smiling at Castiel and his enthusiasm.

It had been adorable when Castiel leaned against him, all hesitant blue eyed innocence looking up at him, asking his permission.

Then Dean’d gone and wrapped his arm around him. And it felt… Dean closed his eyes for a moment. Home. It felt like home. Peaceful, no worries, just… relaxation and good times.

Perhaps he should have woken him up, ‘cause Castiel DID invite him over to watch the show, and then fell asleep. Dean just couldn’t find it in himself to wake him. He’d looked so adorable, with his cheek pillowed on his chest, his eyelashes fluttering, soft snores falling from his mouth.

So Dean let him sleep. He watched Crowley and Aziraphale fuck up and bicker and tried not to laugh loud enough to wake up the sleeping beauty in his lap.

A flush creeped onto his cheeks as his choice of words registered to himself. Beauty? Did he really just use that? It was true, but STILL.

At the end of the second episode, he caught himself looking at Castiel more and more.

That was why he decided to wake him up. The idea of a proper Sleeping Beauty awakening crept through his mind, but he ignored it. Too creepy. Instead he scratched at Castiel’s nose. It didn’t wake him, he only wrinkled his nose. It pulled a chuckle from Dean. So he did it again. And it earned him a swat. He chuckled again.

He prodded and needled until Castiel eventually woke up. And he was so flustered about it.

Totally adorable.

He finally turned his eyes back to the screen when he heard the squeak of a mouse, just in time to see Crowley dart around Aziraphale’s shoulder.

He heard Castiel laugh softly.

Dean shot him another smile, before focussing back on the show.

* * *

“Isn’t Crowley supposed to be a demon?”

“He is,” Castiel said while nodding.

“He’s not exactly… evil.”

Castiel smiled. “No, he’s not.

Dean sat back and enjoyed the dynamics between Crowley and Aziraphale.

“Oh, well, then let me tempt you to—”

Dean burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, that face!” He continued to giggle even Aziraphale flustered and Crowley continued to appraise him.

Castiel smiled widely, very much enjoying how Dean reacted.

“I totally see why this is your favourite episode.”

Castiel picked up a cracker and some dip, in an effort to curb his smile. It almost started to hurt, smiling so much.

“Are they like, you know.”

Dean’s aborted question made Castiel pause. He thought he knew what he wanted to ask, but without a little more, it could be anything.

“Are they what?” he asked instead, busying himself with another cracker.

“’S nothing.”

Castiel studied Dean from a sideways perspective, but Dean studiously focussed on the screen. He decided to let it slide for now.

* * *

“Seriously, what’s up with Crowley’s hair? I mean, Aziraphale never or, BARELY changes, but Crowley? He changes all the time.”

Castiel chuckled.

“Well, you can hardly expect someone to stay the same through 4000 years.”

“Aziraphale does. God, that’s a mouthful.”

“You could always call him angel if it’s too long for you. Crowley does.”

“I’ll call YOU angel.”

Castiel started at that. He stared wide-eyed at Dean.

Dean covered his face with his hand. “That was dumb, please forget I said that.”

Castiel sucked his lips into his mouth and turned back to the screen. For Dean’s benefit he didn’t comment.

* * *

“Wait,” Dean said, staring at the screen in disbelief. “That, all of that, was the intro?”

Castiel grinned at him, and Dean swore, it was brighter than the sun.

“They took like, the ENTIRE episode so show us Crowley and Aziraphale’s history?”

“Amazing, isn’t it?”

Dean could only stare. It was by far the happiest he’d ever seen him.

“Yeah… amazing.”

Castiel didn’t seem to notice Dean wasn’t technically talking about the show.

“Hey, can you pause it for a moment. I need to pi— use your bathroom?”

“Sure.” Castiel paused the show.

His eyes were on Dean as he extracted himself off the couch. When he stretched and his shirt rode up, and Castiel’s eyes were drawn to the sliver of hipbones, well, who could blame him his staring?

Dean’s eyes rested on him was the only reason he managed to pull his stare away. He so hoped Dean didn’t catch him staring. The way the corner of his mouth curled up told him no such luck.

“Where do you keep the bathroom in this place?”

Castiel had to force his mouth to form words. Until he managed he pointed in the right direction.

“Down that corridor, first door on the left.”

“Cool.”

He picked up the empty food tray and their glasses and deposited that in the kitchen first, then disappeared to the bathroom.

Castiel took this moment to take a deep breath and get back a semblance of calm. He picked up his phone, which he’d put on the table earlier on. He thought about texting Sam, but saw he already had texts from Sam waiting for him.

Sam:_ So, hows it going?_

Sam: _Hows the show?_

Sam: _Did you kiss yet? ;)_

Castiel flushed from the neck up. He shot a glance to where Dean disappeared.

_It’s going well. We’re halfway through episode four._

He ignored the kiss comment. He hoped Sam wouldn’t mention it again.

Sam: _I cant believe dean’s watching this before me_

Sam: _He hasnt evene read the book yet_

Castiel smiled.

_You are the one who told him to watch it. One could even say you orchestrated the entire thing._

Sam: _I know, but still_

Sam: _:(_

Castiel chuckled and shook his head. He liked Sam.

Sam: _So no kiss yet?_

Castiel’s smile slipped off. He bit his lip. What should he say to that? The answer was no, there was no kiss. But would Sam meddle? Tell him exactly how to kiss Dean? He began to tremble. His palms became sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans.

Sam: _im sorry if im pushing it_

Sam: _if I am im sorry :((_

Castiel took a deep breath.

_It’s a little too much for me right now. I do like your brother very much, but I’m afraid to try too much at once._

_I guess it’s just too new for me. I’ve never done this before._

Sam:_ I know._

Sam: _And im sorry for pushing you into this._

Sam: _I just really want y ou guys to be happy_

Castiel smiled down at his phone.

_Thank you, Sam. You’re a good friend._

Dean walked back into the room. Castiel looked up from his phone. He felt it vibrate as Sam answered, but he didn’t pull it up. That could be awkward if Dean would lean over his shoulder to read along.

“When’re your parents coming home?” Dean asked as he plopped back on the couch.

The question put a lead weight in Castiel’s stomach. He averted his eyes to his lap.

“My mother’s on a business trip. She won’t be home until next weekend.”

Dean’s eyes were on him, he could feel them.

“And… your dad?”

It was asked very gingerly, as if he realised it was a touchy subject.

“I don’t have one.”

The statement wasn’t followed by a sympathetic one, or with pity. Dean hummed while the corner of his mouth pulled to the side.

“So…”

Castiel glanced at Dean, who glanced at his watch. Castiel’s insides twisted a little. It WAS getting rather late, and they had already watched three and a half episodes. Dean probably had other, BETTER, things to do than watch Good Omens with him.

“Food?”

That wasn’t what he thought Dean would have said. At all.

“You want to stay?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want me to. ‘M kinda invested in the show now.”

Castiel couldn’t stop grinning even if he wanted to.

“I… yes, of course you can stay.”

“Good.” He shot Castiel a cheeky grin. “‘Cause I really gotta know how this ends.”

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Want me to order pizza?”

“Pizza?” Castiel repeated.

“What, you don’t eat pizza?”

“No, no, I do. It’s just… I’ll grab my laptop.”

“Cas, you can also tell me where it is and I’ll grab it for you.”

Castiel bristled. “I can do it myself,” he snapped.

Dean held up his hands in surrender. “Ookaay.”

Castiel felt a little bad about it. Dean was just trying to help, but damnit, he could still do SOME things by himself.

He grabbed his crutches and walked back to the hall, where Dean had dropped his bag. He did some athletics picking it up and moved back to the living room where Dean was busy scrolling through his phone.

Castiel sat down gingerly. He didn’t look at him.

“I’m… sorry I snapped at you,” Castiel mumbled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean shrugged. “I overstepped.”

Castiel pulled up the proper site for pizza. “So, which pizza do you want, Dean?”

As Castiel suspected he would, he leaned over Castiel’s shoulder to look at the screen. Once again every point they touched heated up. It took everything in his power to remain calm. Or at least, ACT calm. He might be a little freaking out.

“Hmmm… usually I always take meatlovers or pepperoni or something.”

Dean’s voice was so close to his ear. That meant his lips would be, too.

Don’t, Castiel. Don’t think about that.

He swallowed.

If he just turned his head, casually, they might even brush together. He could call it an accident. Should he? He bit his lip.

“What ‘bout you?”

Castiel kept his face on the screen, even though he could feel Dean’s eyes now on him. He wants to look, but he didn’t dare to, just in case Dean would be able to read his thoughts off his face. He’d know exactly what Castiel had been thinking.

“I switch it up. I really like the veggie pizza, but I’m open for anything.”

“Oh, you switch, huh?”

Castiel frowned at the comment, finally turning his eyes to Dean. He tilted his head as he watched Dean turned red. He was missing something. Again. But he didn’t know what. So Castiel decided to ignore it.

The next fifteen minutes were spent arguing about which pizza to order.

Castiel’s mouth pulled into a grimace when Dean wanted BBQ and shot that down.

“Can you pick anything less GREEN?” Dean complained when Castiel wanted Caprese.

Finally they decided to go halfsies, just because they couldn’t agree with each other.

That matter settled they focussed back on the TV screen, which had turend dark due to their inactivity.

“How many seasons are there?” Dean asked.

“Just one. With six episodes.”

“Awww. So we’re almost done?” Dean pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Castiel’s lips twitched, but he suppressed his smile. “Hmm-mmm.”

Dean turned to Castiel with a grin. “Wanna finish ‘em all today?”

Castiel grinned in the face of Dean’s enthusiasm, so he just nodded.

“Yes!”

* * *

Castiel lay in bed that night, replaying every instant of the day in his head. Well, every instant with DEAN, at least. It was equal measures exhilarating and embarrassing.

“I always dreamed of having my own bookshop,” Castiel said at one point. “Just, surrounded by books all day that I’d get to read, and live out multiple lives.”

“I do think you have to work sometimes. Y’know, customers and shit.”

“I’d just glare them away.”

Dean laughed at him. “Well, if you open a bookshop I’ll come annoy you every day.”

Castiel sputtered and turned away.

In his bed Castiel covered his eyes. He should have said something to that. Something suave. Why couldn’t he just be suave?

The pizza arrived just when they started up episode five and Dean practically jumped up toward the door, not even giving Castiel a chance to reach for his crutches. Castiel huffed when Dean came back in, their extra large pizza held in his eager hands.

They once again balanced the food on their laps, even though Castiel suggested they use plates.

Apparently that was offensive to Dean.

And then he had to let out an absolutely inappropriate moan.

Castiel stared wide-eyed at Dean as he had his eyes closed, mouth full of pizza, and voicing EXACTLY what he thought about his pizza.

“God, Cas, this is amazing. Here, try some.”

Then he held out his slice, carefully.

With difficulty Cas swallowed past the lump in his throat and leaned his. He almost trembled as he opened his mouth, and Dean moved the pizza even closer. Castiel couldn’t look Dean in the eye, so focussed on the pizza — and Dean’s fingers holding it. He took a bite, the flavour filled his mouth. He let out a tiny moan of his own.

“Yeah.” He coughed. “Yeah, that’s good.”

He still couldn’t look at Dean after that.

That moan, oh that MOAN. Castiel keened as he recalled the sound. If there was ever a porn worthy sound, it was that. The thought brought a blush to his cheeks. Dean and porn. That was— that would be— Oh.

With an exhale Castiel pushed the thoughts from his mind. Immediately other, less pleasant things entered it.

Like the ending of the evening.

The ending of the evening made him cringe and curl up as much as he could, hugging his pillow to his chest.

Dean turned to him with a grin, his orange juice in his hand as he inclined it to Castiel.

“To the world,” he said, again in mock-reference to Crowley.

Castiel couldn’t help the way his breath caught in his throat, or the way his eyes widened. Did he know? The way Crowley and Aziraphale felt about each other? Or did he just think it was a cool way to toast.

With a shaking hand he raised his own juice. He couldn’t leave Dean hanging after all.

“T-to the world.”

And then he had to spil the orange juice all over himself, which caused Dean to spew it out as well, only because he was laughing so hard.

It was downright MORTIFYING. He was exceptionally thankful his mother was away. She would have scolded him so badly. As it was, Dean squeezed his shoulder and went in search of a towel to clean up the mess.

The touch of Dean’s fingers warmed him to the bone.

Castiel bit his lip. He twisted this way and that, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. He could almost still feel the touch, could imagine it trailing on. To his neck, his face, caressing his jawline, then downward, down, down.

A breathy sigh left Castiel’s parted lips.

Castiel trailed his own fingers down with a butterfly soft, barely-there touch. If only it was Dean’s hand. Dean’s touch. A small whine left him. His breaths came in gasps. His chest steadily rising up and down.

_“I’ll call you angel.”_

Castiel bit on his bottom lip.

Dean’s rumble in his ear.

Castiel pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. His hand finally found its destination.

“Oh, Dean…”

“_Let me take care of you, Cas.”_

“Oh, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes, Deeaaaaan……”

His hand moved quickly, not in the mood to draw things out.

“_So beautiful, Cas. My beautiful angel.”_

His eyes closed, his mouth open, his hand pumping so quick.

“_Come for me, angel. Will you come for me?”_

“Yeah, yes. Dean, dean. Oh, ahhh!”

The end had come.

Castiel lay there, catching his breath. His hand and underwear sticky, but that didn’t matter. Right now he was blissed out. At a later time he might feel bad about thinking about Dean like that, but that was later.

He shifted a little. He should shed his underwear. He made an attempt, and abandoned the attempt. He’d do it in the morning.

With a sigh and a smile, Castiel relaxed and slowly, calmly, fell asleep.


	5. Tell Him The TRUTH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SOo... this took a lot longer than it needed to be.
> 
> Sam calls Dean about his "date" and miscommunication happens.
> 
> Also, Cas' cast takes a leave and Dean pops the question. Well... A question, not THE question.

Dean loved his bed. Seriously. It was his first love— wait, the Impala was his first. Fine, his bed was his SECOND love. A close second.  
Metallica blared through his room.

Dean groaned into his pillow. He tried to drown out the noise, but to no avail.

With another groan, Dean’s hand fished around on his nightstand for his phone. Bleary-eyed he stared at the caller ID. Typical. Who else would be up before the crack of dawn?

“What?” he snapped into his phone.

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said. He was WAY too cheerful. “Just wanted to hear how it went with you and Cas.”

“You wanna do this now?” Dean groaned as he rolled over. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. He glanced at his watch. 9.30. Jesus Christ. Too frickin’ early.

“Come on. I wanna know. I'll tell you about MY date.”

Dean wasn't awake enough to hear Sam's inflection.

“Sure, whatever.” There was no way he was going back to sleep now anyway. He sat up and propped himself up against the headboard.

“So, how was it?”

Dean ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, it was good.”

“Good? Come on, man. Gimme more.”

Dean snorted.

“It was…” Dean closed his eyes as he remembered last night. Cas next to him, shoulders touching. A smile crept onto his face. “It was great. I had fun. Cas, he’s… he’s amazing.”

“Awww…”

Dean immediately scowled.

“Shut yer trap.”

Sam merely laughed at him.

“How far did you go?”

“All the way,” Dean answered without hesitation.

The shocked silence that followed slipped past Dean as he yawned long and wide. He shook himself a little in an attempt to wake up.

“You what?”

“All. The. Way. Sam. I'm sure you know what that means.”

“And Cas was alright with that?”

Why did he sound so incredulous?

“Yeah,” Dean said hotly. “He was all for it.” Dean shifted to a more comfortable position. “I just asked him if he was game and he almost pounced at the opportunity. Couldn’t hold him back.”

It was Castiel’s favourite series. Dean was pretty confident that if he called him right now to ask if he wanted a rerun, he’d cheer at the opportunity.

“That doesn’t sound like Cas.”

“It sounds EXACTLY like Cas. You should know. You two keep yapping to each other about it.” It wasn’t like they didn’t talk about it in front of Dean. Hell, Sam hooked them up together with the damned show. He connived and schemed and used his persuasive lawyer-y skill to get Dean and Castiel together. Alone. Close. Touching. 

Dean shook himself out of yet another daydream. Last time it didn’t end so well. Or actually, TOO well.

Another silence followed that.

“He told you about that?”

Dean frowned. “Dude, really? Cut me some slack. I’m not an idiot, okay?” Dean cut off Sam’s protests. “Anyway, I loved every bit of it. Cas was lying on top of me at a certain point, being all adorable. And his hair is so soft, like frickin’ velvet or something.” Dean grinned at the memory. He barely managed to keep himself from running his hand through those locks of his over and over again.

“Oh, you should’ve heard the little moan he made when I made him taste—”

“Okay! Enough. I don’t wanna know.”

“You asked,” Dean snarked. He’d keep that moan to himself then. It was really frickin’ hot. He wished he could hear those moans under different circumstances.

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, don’t ask me why, though.”

Dean wanted to stick his tongue out, but A, that was childish, and two, Sam couldn’t see so it was moot point.

“So, talk,” Dean said. Time to turn the tables. “Your date. Did you do the deed?”

“No. Dean. I’m not you,” Sam snarked back. A small pause followed. “I did kiss her.”

“Attaboy,” Dean teased.

“Shut up.” Though there was no heat in it.

“But gimme more. How’d it go? Did she like it?”

“It went well. And you’ll be happy to know the car’s still in one piece.”

Dean scowled at his Baby’s description. She’d better be more than in one piece.

“Jess can’t bowl. At all. It was hilarious. Though I wasn’t all that much better. We both had pretty low scores, but it was a lot of fun.”

Dean laughed, his eyes squeezed shut as he remembered just HOW BAD his little brother was. He did manage to knock over eight pins at one point… on the wrong lane.

“Dean. Shut. Up.”

Apparently Sam remembered, too.

Dean laughed harder.

“It’s not that funny,” Sam pouted.

“I just don’t understand why you took her somewhere that you suck at.”

“Do you know how bad it looks if you’re TOO GOOD at something? I’d look like I was bragging without even saying a word. And letting her win on purpose is no good either.”

“Yeah, okay, good point.” A sly smile made its way on Dean’s face. “So you both suck at playing with balls.”

“Ugh, DEAN!”

Dean grinned.

“Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m awesome.”

“Awesomely ANNOYING.”

Dean scowled. How he wanted the ability to throw something at Sam through the phone.

“Anyway. After bowling we went to this drive-in-cinema. And it was… perfect.”

“So THAT’S why you needed the car. The backseat better be stain-free, Sammy.”

“Gross, Dean.”

“You did pay right?”

“Yeah, about that…”

Dean paused. “You didn’t let her pay, did you?”

Sam’s silence was enough answer.

“Come ON, Sammy, basic etiquette. YOU ask someone out. YOU pay.”

“I DID pay. I paid for the bowling. But when we arrived at the movie she had her wallet out before I could even reach mine.”

“Sammy…”

“She said since we were both broke college students we should split it.”

Dean scoffed.

“She was VERY persuasive.”

“And you call yourself a law student?”

“Pre-law student.”

Dean tutted, until a memory resurfaced.

“I guess I can’t cuss you out too much. Cas paid for pizza last night, even though I suggested it. Though technically you’re the one who kinda set us up, but still. Bastard musta paid online. I did chip in for the tip, so, there’s that. But I was fully intent on paying for it. That’s gotta count for something.”

“So… you and Cas.”

Dean sobered up quickly. “Me and Cas what?”

“You gonna meet up again?”

“I— I don’t…” Dean licked his lips as he shifted on the bed. “We didn’t make, plans or anything.”

“Wow. So you go “all the way,” and don’t even talk about what comes after?”

Dean flushed.

“You make it sound dirty. It’s not that bad as you make it sound.”

“But, you DO have a plan right?”

Dean groaned and hid his eyes with his palm. “No. Shut up. I don’t— I don’t know. I’m making this up as I go along.” 

“Dean, come ON, man. You can’t just— I mean—” Sam sighed. “Oh, you’re a mess.”

Dean bristled at that. “Hey!”

“Look, Dean,” Sam said, before Dean could say anything else. “I’m not judging you— Okay, maybe a little — but don’t treat this like a game, okay? Cas deserves better than that.”

“I know that,” Dean hissed. “Cas deserves the world, okay? He deserves…” Someone better than me. Dean swallowed hard. “Look, I do have a kind of plan.” Did he?

“Really…?”

He REALLY didn’t like the dubious sound of Sam’s words.

“Yes!” Dean shifted again. “We were talking last night about… whatever. And he got me interested. So I thought I’d go and check it out.”

“Well, that’s… good. I guess.”

He shifted again, not able to get really comfortable. “So yeah, that’s my plan for today. Get a copy of the book and find out what Cas meant by all the differences.”

“Do I wanna know what you’re talking about?”

Now he was being deliberately obtuse.

“Same thing that got me to go with Cas? Same thing you used to get me to go with him?”

“…What are you talking about?”

“What d’you mean, ‘What am I talking about?’ You know what I’m talking about. Same thing as before. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“Are we talking about the same thing here?”

Dean frowned. “Uh, yeah…? I should hope so.”

“Just— humour me, what are you talking about?”

“Good Omens…? Why, what’re you talking about?”

The sigh of relief was almost enough to push Dean over, even though that had to be impossible.

“Oh… Yes, of course. Yeah, no, that’s… good. That’s good.”

“Sammy,” Dean growled. “What did you think I meant?”

“It’s nothing!”

“Spill it.”

Sam groaned and Dean could almost imagine his little brother leaning his head back, running a hand through that long mane of his.

“I thought… I just thought you were talking about,” Sam coughed, “about sex.”

Dean heard the words, but they didn’t process immediately. He blinked a few times.

“…What?”

Sam groaned again. “I just… I told you it was nothing.” 

“That’s not NOTHING, Sam,” Dean spat. “Damnit, how could you even think that?! Guy’s got his leg in a cast. I’m not gonna jump his bones when one of ‘em is broken.”

“You said you went all the way!”

“And you thought I banged his brains out?”

“I’m SORRY, okay?! It’s just… bad communication.”

“Understatement of the century,” Dean muttered.

Something snapped into focus.

“Wait, hang on. You said—” _He told you about that?_ “Do you talk about… sex with Cas?”

“Deeaaann… Really?”

Dean just waited.

“Ugh. No. Not… really?”

“Very articulate, Sam,” Dean said dryly.

“I just— we— I’m just trying to help out.”

“By talking about sex?”

“It’s NOT sex!”

“Really? You sure you don’t want me to reiterate how the birds and the bees work?”

“Jerk! I know what sex is. It’s just— We weren’t talking about sex per se.” There was another pause. Dean just knew that Sam licked his lips. He always did when he was squaring himself for something. “Look, I just asked a question, and he said ‘no not yet’, so I kinda, kept asking and kinda pushing, and I already apologised for that, and

that’s it, I swear.”

“Sam, you’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?”

“I asked him, if, if you’d kissed yet.”

“Jesus.” Dean rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Why— No, I don’t wanna know— Why did you ask that? And why would he say that? Does— Did he want me to—?”

Worried thoughts rolled through his mind. Should he have kissed Castiel? Was he waiting for Dean to kiss him? He did lean against his shoulder. He looked at him with those big eyes. He was so hesitant about it. If he was nervous about just resting his head on his shoulder, how much more nervous was he about kissing him? Leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder, that was Castiel’s move. Should Dean have made his own move? He DID thinking about kissing Cas. Maybe he should’ve—

“Okay, wow, Dean. Jeez, I can’t believe I’m doing this. Yes. He likes you, but I think he appreciates going slow. Okay? Just, maybe not TOO slow.”

Dean nodded. Then almost hit himself. Stupid, it’s called telePHONE, not teleVISION. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” A shy smile crept onto his face. “So he likes me?”

Sam groaned again. “You really gotta ask?”

Dean bit his lip to stop the grin from splitting his face in half. Cas LIKED him. He did suspect it, but this really put things in perspective. He cleared his throat.

“Yeah. I mean. Can’t be too sure, right?”

There was a deep exhale on the other side of the line.

“I can feel that,” Dean hissed, as he could practically see the bitch face that Sam was projecting through the line.

Sam snorted. “Dean, trust me on this. Cas DEFINITELY likes you. I’ve got the texts to prove it. He’s just…” There was a pause as Sam searched for the right word. “Nervous.”

Dean should’ve known that. He DID know that. And he felt bad that he didn’t think of that himself.

“So, could you please, PLEASE, at least let him know you like him, too?”

“Why? Didn’t you tell him in your little gossip sessions?” Dean snarked.

“I did. He doesn’t believe me.”

“Jesus, Sammy. What, you two get together and do each other nails between you little gossip sessions?”

He ignored the bitch face vibe Sam sent him.

“Just, will you tell him?” 

Dean licked his lips. He wanted to. But now HE was the one who was nervous.

“I— Yeah. Sure.”

Sam let out another sigh.

“What?” he hissed.

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

“I will!” Dean said hotly. “I just, gotta figure out how.”

“How about, “Hey, I like you, let’s go on a date,” how’s that work for you?”

“Shut up.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Dean—”

“Good night.”

“It’s MORNING.”

Dean hung up and tossed his phone on his night stand. He slid down the wall, back into the covers, his arm tossed over his eyes. Damn that kid. Thinking he and Castiel had— That they actually— Come on! The guy had a cast on his leg, for Pete’s sake. Sex was out of the question.

Kissing, yes. Kissing was another thing entirely. Kissing he could do.

A smile crept up his face. Castiel wanted to kiss him. Castiel LIKED him. His grin almost split his face in half. That was, wow. So awesome. That was everything he wanted right now. And maybe a copy of Good Omens. And for Castiel’s leg to be fully functional. And… other things.

Dean bit his lip. Was it wrong to think about that? They weren’t an item yet. YET. If Sam was right — And his little brother was right a lot of the time — then Castiel wanted to. He wondered if Castiel was into sex. He hoped so.

Dean sighed softly. He could imagine it so clearly. Castiel’d be shy, but eager. His face, flushed, lips parted, eyes shut. An occasional moan slipping out as Dean touched him in all the right places.

His hand rested on his stomach. His fingers stroked lazily. There was no hurry.

Castiel biting his lip. Eyelashes fluttering. Squirming on Dean’s bed.

A shudder passed through Dean. 

Oh shit. Castiel in Dean’s bed. In his bed next to Dean. Dean bit back a moan. Oh, how badly he wanted that.

Dean didn’t know yet how he liked him best. On his back, pressed into the mattress, legs wrapped around Dean’s waist, looking up at him with those big blue eyes of his. Staring at him. Begging him for more. Pulling him closer, impossibly close.

Or on top of him, those legs of his on either side of Dean’s hips, rocking up and down, slooowly. He’d move so slowly, enjoying every second of it. He’d run his hands through that messy mop of hair. The sheer look of pleasure on his face.

Dean bit his lip. He thumbed at the slit of his cock. Good lord, he needed to see that look live.

He would draw it out. Make Castiel shake and tremble. He’d find out just what noises he could pull from Castiel. How would his name sound on those lips? How would those lips look when they’d wrap around his—

Dean squeezed his eyes shut as he whimpered.

“Crap.”

So much for drawing it out.

His hips canted up. He couldn’t hold out much longer. His breathing quickened. Dean’s voice rose in volume even as his hand sped up.

“Come on, Cas,” he breathed. “Get me there.”

More and more images of Castiel filtered through his head. His sighs, his moans, his whimpers. His eyes, good Lord, those eyes. 

“Yeah. Ugh, fuck.”

Dean came over his own fist, Castiel’s name on his breath.

A satisfied sigh followed.

“Oh, man.”

His eyes were closed, a content smile graced his lips.

“I so have to tell him.”

* * *

He didn’t tell him.

Because of course he didn’t.

He met up with Castiel a few days after their Good Omens marathon, and he couldn’t get the words out. All Castiel had to do was look up at him with those big blues of his, or shoot him a sweet, sweet smile, and Dean couldn’t form the words.

He should bang his head against something hard, maybe he’d shake loose some courage to get him to open his big mouth and just TELL HIM. It wasn’t like it was hard or anything. Just tell the guy he had a major crush on that he liked him. If Sam was really really right Castiel felt the same. No biggie, right?

Then why was Dean quacking in his badass black biker boots?

“Be a lion, not a mouse,” Dean muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Castiel asked.

Crap. Not quiet enough.

“Er. Nothing, Cas,” Dean said smoothly. “I, er… read Wizard of Oz again. Just, something that stuck.”

Castiel’s eyes lit up. “The Wizard of Oz. I haven’t seen that movie in a while. Do you want to…?”

Dean smiled at the hopefulness in Castiel’s eyes. “Sure, sweetheart.”

Castiel blushed and ran his hand through his hair, effectively hiding his face behind his arm.

See, this was easy. Making him blush. Giving him cute little pet names. Then WHY was it so hard to say three little words? It shouldn’t be hard.

Just say it. Dean licked his lips and opened his mouth. But instead of words coming out, he took a drink of coke. Coward, his mind supplied.

* * *

Castiel bit his lip as he turned the idea over in his head. He glanced to the side where Dean sat beside him, his arm thrown over Castiel’s shoulders.

“Dean,” he began. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Cas. What’s up?”

Castiel winced internally. He really didn’t want to impose.

“I…”

“Hey, don’t worry. You’re not gonna offend me.”

Castiel took a deep breath.

“I— My cast— I have an appointment at the hospital to remove it, but I don’t— That is— Could you take me? To the hospital?

“Sure, when is it?”

Castiel’s throat clogged up. It always hit him hard that Dean would do anything for him. Sometimes it was a little too much.

Dean bumped their shoulders together. “Hey, Earth to Castiel. When is it?”

“This Thursday.”

Dean’s eyes rolled back as he did a mental check of his calendar. “Yeah, should work.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean smiled at him, big and happy, and that proved to be too much. Castiel’s face was overheating. He leaned against Dean’s shoulder, his cheek pressed against his arm. He felt Dean’s chuckle with his body. Dean’s arm pulled him against him

“You’re adorable, Cas.”

Weirdly enough, that didn’t help with Castiel’s blushing.

* * *

“So what are you doing with the holidays?”

Castiel glanced at Dean, who was watching him instead of the road. Castiel looked away first.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Oh, you don’t celebrate Christmas?”

Castiel didn’t look at him.

“No, my mother’s working. I usually just… watch Christmas movies by myself.”

Castiel could feel the heat of Dean’s eyes on him. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He wanted to curl up in a ball and stay that way forever.

“Huh.”

Castiel glanced at Dean from the corners of his eyes and sighed in relief when he seemed focussed on the road again.

“So tell me,” he said as he made a turn. “What exactly is it your mom does that gets her outta the house so much?”

“I…” Castiel REALLY didn’t like this conversation. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t KNOW? How can you not know what your mom does? Don’t you ever talk?”

Castiel sank low into the seat even as tears stung at his eyes.

“I, she must have told me once, and I must have known, but I just… It didn’t seem to matter at some point. She’s never there. What does it matter what she does?”

He couldn’t look at Dean. He leaned against the passenger’s window.

Dean didn’t push the matter. They stayed silent all the rest of the way to the hospital. Castiel couldn’t say if that was better or worse.

* * *

When the cast was removed, Dean ducked out for a moment — which Castiel was thankful for. He really didn’t want Dean to witness the smelly mess that was supposed to be his leg. It was such a skinny mess.

“I know it might look hopeless, but you’ll get back to full strength before you know it.”

Castiel nodded, without much enthusiasm.

Dean came back just after his leg got its first wash in over a month.

“Now don’t try to put too much pressure on your leg right away. Your muscles haven’t done much lately. They need to get used to working again.”

Castiel listened carefully while keeping half an eye on Dean.

He leaned against the counter, well out of the way of the doctor and nurse. He did that thing he did. Playing it cool, but still oh so caring. Just like the first time they were in the hospital.

“And you’re all set. Make sure to exercise your legs, but don’t overdo it.”

“Yes, I will. I mean, I won’t.” Castiel ducked his head in embarrassment. Dean coughed behind him, and Castiel was pretty sure he hid his chuckles.

Castiel managed a small glare at Dean. Dean for his part only grinned and wriggled his fingers in a little wave.

Castiel picked up his crutches and he and Dean walked back to his car. It was a much quicker exit than the first time. But now he was supposed to start using his leg again.

He was already thinking about training schedules when Dean interrupted his train of thought.

“You got somewhere you haveta be on Christmas Day?”

Castiel, still not looking at him, shook his head. 

“Well, now you do.”

That caused him to look up. He tilted his head in confusion. “I do?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna be at my place for Christmas.”

Castiel stared at Dean. A gust of wind blew through their hair. It was a little chilly, but that didn’t matter for a moment.

“Dean, I can’t accept your pity.”

“It’s not pity!”

“Then what is it?”

Dean didn’t answer for a long time.

“You never talked to me before. You didn’t even know I existed. Why else would you invite me if not out of pity?”

“Okay. Give me a minute. I’m not all that good with words. To answer why I never talked to you before, you’re right. I DIDN’T know you existed. I didn’t know you. I couldn’t have known you. We didn’t go to the same school. I dropped out. I had no chance to meet you. But now I know you and I think you’re awesome.”

Castiel glanced at him. “You do?”

“Hell yeah. Look,” he put his hands on Castiel’s shoulders to emphasise his next words. “Taking you to the hospital, call it civil duty. But I was worried about you. I asked Sam to look out for you, and we started texting. And I wouldn’t have continued if I didn’t like you, Cas. I don’t do fake friends.”

Tears ran down his cheeks, which Dean wiped away with the pads of his thumbs.

“Will you come celebrate Christmas with me?”

Castiel nodded.


End file.
